The wind is gusting and howling tonight, blowing through cracks in windows to rattle doors. I love nights like this — it reminds me of story book nights. It makes me realize how small I am in the face of Weather, of the World, which makes me realize more may be afoot than we notice on a daily basis.
Tonight I'm thinking of Popi, my best friend Caroline's beloved grandfather who died this week, while recovering from an open heart surgery at age 92. He was loved and loved his family, his community, lived a rich, full, intelligent life, and will be missed.
I'm also reminded of A Wrinkle in Time, which Madeleine L'engle opens with:
"It was a dark and stormy night.
"In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. Behind the trees clouds scudded frantically across the sky. Every few moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraithlike shadows that raced along the ground.
"The house shook.
"Wrapped in her quilt, Meg shook."
And Mrs. Whatsit comes with the wind, and thus the beginning of the adventure into the unknown.
Here's to the unknown and dark, windy, stormy nights.
Car-free in L.A., I write about what I see and those I meet.
Fears: Clowns, unreasonably small dogs, unexpected mariachi music.
Motto: Regardless of Snavely family tradition, I will not be buried with my pets.
Email me: rebecca [dot] snavely [at] gmail.com